We’ve been back home in Spain for a full month now, leaving Bahrain and the Arab Spring behind for ever. Memories of being under house arrest, the distant gun-shots, the helicopters and the protests are fading.

Our Spanish neighbours gave us a lovely welcome and their eyes grew large when we told them about our year away. Very few have ever been out of Spain, and our tales of teaching Arab children and the violent uprising astonished them. But it was the day-to-day stuff that really fascinated them.

“Madre mia!” Paco said as he sliced the serrano ham. “No ham or pork at all? For a whole year?”

“And you had to cover yourselves up in that heat?” asked Carmen, gaping.

Coming back to our mountain village was like pulling on a favourite pair of old slippers. We threw ourselves into cleaning the… Read more

Goodbye sand and suffocating heat. Goodbye political protests, shootings and constant helicopter activity above. Sadly, goodbye to our friends, too. To be honest, we’d grown fond of Bahrain and leaving it was harder than we thought it would be. I clearly remember our last day in Bahrain two weeks ago.

UPS came and collected our boxes for shipping, we handed in our apartment keys, and Ahmed the taxi driver drove us to the airport. We passed two military checkpoints, but, being Westerners, were waved through. We passed the Pearl Roundabout, scene of the terrible shootings last February and gawped at the new highway intersection. Back in February, the Pearl Monument had stood there proudly, the most famous statue in Bahrain. Then the Shi’ite protesters camped under its giant shadow until government forces lost patience and fired on them whilst they slept. Shortly after, the government demolished the monument,… Read more

Isn’t it exhilarating when you’ve been fretting over a life-changing decision, finally make up your minds, and just know you’ve made the right choice? That’s how Joe and I felt after we typed this letter:

Dear Ms. N,
Please accept this as our formal notification that we are resigning from our posts of High School Math/Physics teacher, and Grade 6 English teacher and will not be returning for the new term in August 2011.
This decision was not an easy one, but we have decided that we would like to return to our home in Spain and retire. We very much appreciate the opportunities we have been given here, and the welcome and support the school has given us.
We wish you all every success in the future,

Yours sincerely,

Joe and Victoria Twead

So that’s it. A year ago we signed up to teach in an International school in Bahrain, and now we’ve come to the end. The school wants us to stay, but we’ve had enough. Enough of teaching rich children who don’t want to learn, enough of getting up at 5.00 am each morning, enough of the heat and enough of the politics. We grew very fond of Bahrain and its people, but the Sunni/Shi’ite issues and the anti-government uprising are not our battles.

Just a section of a recent peaceful demonstration. These are all women.

Sometimes I squeeze my eyes tight shut and imagine Joe and I are back in our Spanish village. The cuckoo will have arrived in the valley, and the swallows and swifts will be be circling overhead. Sparrows will be stealing strands of straw from our chicken run and the village cats are giving birth in derelict buildings.

But for now, we’re dashing round the island of Bahrain sorting last minute stuff and visiting places we want to see before we leave. Of course we had to visit the King’s camels, all 450 of them. I fell in love with one particular royal camel and named her Camilla but Joe was unreasonable and refused to let me take her home.

One of the King's 450 camels.

Things have definitely improved in Bahrain since martial law and the curfew were lifted on June 1st. Now demonstrations can take place without the fear of being fired on. It’s too late for the Grand Prix which has been cancelled, and the Saudi and Kuwaiti tanks and troops still remain, but now they no longer guard the shopping malls and stay mostly out of sight.

However, there is still much discontent and the situation is volatile, although rarely reported. We know that the problems are far from over, but when they flare up again, we’ll be far away in Spain, counting chickens instead of helicopters. Already I can almost taste Paco’s homemade wine. Look out El Hoyo, we’re coming home!

“Perhaps if Joe and Vicky had known what relocating to a tiny village tucked in the Alpujarra mountains would really be like, they might have hesitated…”
“a charming and funny expat tale” The Telegraph

Nobody is allowed to talk about what is happening here in the Kingdom of Bahrain. The news channels and internet have fallen silent, and I, too, will say little. Joe and I have only 10 weeks to complete of our contract -teaching in an International School in the city of Manama, and then we hop aboard that plane back to Spain and our crazy, beloved village in the Andalucían mountains. How we long for the fresh mountain breezes and tasting food without a dusting of sand…

Our village in Spain

Last month, the troubles here in Bahrain escalated to the point where the British Embassy advised us to evacuate. They even laid on a special flight for British expats, although the fare cost more than a regular flight… (And they wondered why it returned to Britain empty?) But we’ve never felt personally threatened here, in… Read more

I apologise. There is no humour in this blog, just resignation and sadness.

When we arrived in the Kingdom of Bahrain last year, we were taken on a guided tour. We were shown the most famous, iconic sculpture on the island, the Pearl Monument, towering into the blue sky in the middle of a huge roundabout. The sculpture represented the importance of pearls to Bahrain’s economy before the discovery of oil in 1932.

We gasped and admired; it was gorgeous. The snowy slopes of the columns supporting the giant pearl against the cloudless sky was truly breathtaking. At night it was equally beautiful, lit up against the starlit desert night.

Then, on the 14th February 2011, the protesters arrived, and the roundabout (wrongly called ‘Pearl Square’ by the media) became their headquarters. The authorities tried to forcibly evict them using tear-gas and… Read more

I’m just an expat, and would never presume to pass an opinion on the politics of the Kingdom of Bahrain. All I know is that Joe and I have grown very fond of this little island, and the events of these past few days have really shaken us.

As you all know, we left our beloved Spanish village to work in the Middle East for one year, teaching at an International school. Many people had hardly heard of the Kingdom of Bahrain, and now suddenly it’s the top BBC and CNN news topic.

The way we understand it, the Muslim community in Bahrain is either Sunni or Shi’a and most of the time they co-exist very happily. For instance, our school is Sunni owned but the Muslim pupils and staff are a mixture of Sunni and Shi’a. This Sunni/Shi’a mix poses no problem in Bahrain, except at religious festival times when sometimes their differences bubble to the surface. Then small protests flare up, with tyre-burning being the most common occurrence. (Now I understand those black, doughnut-shaped stains on the road!)

On Valentine’s Day, an anti-government protest was organised at the Pearl Roundabout, which is about 4 miles away from us. Kids in my class told me they were going to join it with their families. As you know, the protest gathered momentum and the police tried to disperse it with tear-gas and rubber bullets. One protester was killed. The next day, a public holiday for the Prophet Mohamed’s birthday, the funeral procession took place. More clashes, and more deaths. The crowd at the Pearl Roundabout grew to thousands, whole families arriving, many with tents.

We were unaffected, although we could hear constant helicopter activity above and the wailing of police sirens.

On the 17th, we woke to hear the shocking news that the Pearl Roundabout crowd had been attacked and dispersed in a pre-dawn raid. More deaths. Tanks and armoured personnel carriers began arriving. Highways were road-blocked. Our school opened but hardly any children turned up.

On the 18th, there was a rally at the Grand Mosque and it was totally peaceful. Many thousands of people turned out, and it was a joyous, flag-waving demonstration of the people’s love for Bahrain. We know, because we were there.

Then another shocking attack at the Pearl Roundabout, the military using live ammunition on protesters. More deaths. Bahrain went to bed mourning.

Today, the 19th, was full of events. The military, on the Crown Prince’s orders we were told, withdrew. The police withdrew. All sides agreed talks must take place. Three protest marches converged on the Pearl Roundabout unhindered. Suddenly, everybody was in party mood and protesters waved Bahraini flags and handed out flowers.

It is now 9.00pm Bahraini time and the crowds on the Pearl roundabout are still swelling. Who knows how events will pan out? At the moment Joe and I feel perfectly safe. The supermarket shelves may be empty as people are panic-buying, but our apartments are in a trouble-free area of the city, and the mood is good, full of hope.

So, at the moment, it’s business as usual for the Two Old Fools. Thank you all for your thoughts, but please don’t worry. Believe me, if the situation deteriorates, Joe and I will return to Spain immediately…

It’s hard getting up in the morning before the red sun climbs over the desert horizon. It’s hard catching the bus to school as it weaves between skyscrapers picking up other sleepy teachers. It’s hard dropping the card into the clocking-in machine at school and starting to teach at 7.30 am. But it’s our fault. We chose to leave our beloved village in the Spanish mountains and come here to live in a city in the Middle East and work in an International School for a year.

If we’d stayed in Spain, life would be very different. We’d get up when we wanted to, without alarm clocks shrilling in our ears. It would be much colder, yes, but there’d be no traffic sounds, no skyscrapers. The hills would be dotted with almond blossom and the urgent ‘click-click-click’ sound of quails calling mates would echo round the valley. But here in the Kingdom of Bahrain, there are no birds to be seen except for pigeons and a few scavenging seagulls. And no trees except for ornamental ones, watered daily.

Actually, that’s not quite true. Most Bahraini websites and brochures mention the Tree of Life, an extraordinary tree that stands alone in the desert. It is ancient and appears to survive without water, as rain rarely falls here in Bahrain. There is no vegetation around it, no clue as to how it survives. It’s not surprising that the Tree of Life is a huge tourist attraction.

The Tree of Life

I confess, we haven’t been to see it yet, but have spoken to those who have. Badly signposted, the Tree is hard to find and easily missed. And what a disappointment for the intrepid visitor when he finally tracks it down. There it stands, miserable and alone, with graffiti gouged into its bark, broken branches trailing the ground, litter scattered around its precious roots.

The Tree of Life - a tourist attraction

No, I don’t want to see the Tree of Life, and neither does Joe. If I went, I know I’d compare it with the thickly forested mountainsides of Spain, or the mighty oak trees and bluebell copses of England. I don’t want to see this poor tree that clings to life in the desert, maimed and abused.

And yet, despite our homesickness, the soulless cityscape and desolate sands of Bahrain have strangely endeared themselves to Joe and I. Is it the Arab children we teach, our new friends or the welcome we have been given? I’m not sure, but we were handed our ‘letters of intent’ this week, where we state whether we’d like to return for another year’s contract. Will we come back, or will we leave for ever in June? The forms are still blank; we haven’t written on them yet…